0 beats per minute
by Exsanguine
Summary: During one of the battles, Arya is left to die, hearing her own thoughts as she realizes just how sudden she is about to leave it all... Sorry people, I really don't like her so this is the result.


--O beats per minute 

_Crazy, but I believe this time  
Begging for sweet relief  
A blessing in disguise  
I'm dying behind these tired eyes  
I've been losing sleep  
Please come to me tonight  
_[lyrics "Miracle" by Foo Fighters 

40 beats/minute.

My heart pounded at its usual rate. I am a trained warrior, strong in heart and body. The army gathered around me shuffled about nervously, checking armor, testing swords but I wasn't a part of them.

My eyes flickered to the Empire's side of the battlefield. There were hundreds, thousands of them, clad in crimson and black. Wicked banners snapped and twirled around crazily in the winds that surged around in the damp air, whipping my hair into my face.

Slowly, I watched as one of the soldiers raised a horn to his lips and blasted out a loud, bellowing cry. The army responded with a huge, collective war cry and dashed forward, towards the Varden army, gathering more momentum as they sped down no man's land.

I turned to see Nasuada shout an order, pointing her sword towards the assaulting army. Eragon sat upon Saphira nearby, eyes fixed in the distance, face blank as he searched the minds of the Empire army to locate the magicians as instructed to. Looking away from him, I readied my own blade and prepared to meet metal with flesh.

70 beats/minute.

My heart is as erratic as ever. I cannot stop the adrenaline that pulses through my veins, fueling me with strength unneeded, I am still not weary. Others may feel the urge to rest now, to retreat, hide, or to cower in their beds, but I feel no such emotion. All I want is more action.

Clashing and ringing filled my ears for the past five hours or so, time was always inaccurate in war. The sight of fallen soldiers and spurting blood filled my eyes though I had no mercy for them, they were long lost. I still have my part to play in the battle though.

I watched through experienced eyes as more and more men gave up, crashing into the ground, limp and bleeding. Even more, I saw my own side falter. They were nothing compared to the Empire, dwarfed by the looks of it. But we must not give up, the instant we had drawn their swords; we had subjected ourselves to a battle of more than just overthrowing a tyrant king. It was a battle of life or death – there was no middle ground.

72 beats/minute.

The battle is coming to a close. Fewer ranks of crimson clad soldiers came rushing at us, weapons lowered threateningly. Though my limbs are starting to ache slightly from the constant smashing and parrying, my mind is still open for more.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself forward, scattering the poor enemies who stand in my way. Why hadn't they sounded the retreat? I would've thought that they would've understood that this battle was won.

56 beats/minute.

The adrenaline is running off, the chances of dying are slimming as I speak. Fewer men face us, and though our number is small, we still stand a dangerous threat. Eragon has disappeared with Saphira doing who-knows-what but at least I can tell that no one else of great importance has passed away yet.

As I prepared myself for another uppercut to a weakened Empire solider, I felt something sharp and cold collide with my side, driving the very breath out of my lungs. Staggering back, I look down to see a skillfully crafted dagger protruding from my right rib cage. Afraid that the blade was poisoned, I reacted instinctively and tried to yank the dagger out of me.

Blood dribbled out feebly from the wound, much like the trickling of water at a quiet fountain. Groaning slightly, I fell to the ground, still clawing at the blade in my side. My fighting had caught up to me; I barely have enough strength to take the dagger out at all.

The pain didn't register with me straight away. The shock of me falling victim and ending up on the ground quickly overpowered that. I couldn't believe it. But it was still happening.

Instead, I focus my rage on the person who had given me this wound. Sweeping my gaze around, I tracked it down to a soldier not too far away and killed him instantly with magic. One for one. But I should've known fighting with anger is no use. Now I didn't even have enough strength to seal up the wound.

Gasping from the intense pain of it, I realized with dread that the blade was indeed poisoned. The pain was twice as strong as any normal wound that I have ever had. It was tearing through my side, flaming and burning me. Whimpering quietly, I clutched at the gash, trying to hold all the blood in to no avail.

I don't remember much about what happened. All I knew was that the pain didn't subside. I continued to lie there, bloodied and helpless, waiting for anything to happen. I didn't care what it was, just that something _happened_.

And then I heard it, an alarmed voice calling out my name then repeating when I made no move to indicate that I had heard. I couldn't respond, my mouth was too dry. It turned out to be Eragon. He crouched down besides me, eyes wide in that pathetically fearful way and looked up and down me, noticing the blood that had since seeped out all around me.

He looked rugged and tired, hair matted and body coated in a considerable layer of grime. I watched on quietly as he pulled my arm away to inspect the wound before sitting back and yelling something to someone.

He must've been calling for help, because the next instant; I was propped up against him, my head resting in his lap. I wanted to protest, but I knew it was no use. He would win this time. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what was happening. He must've gotten the wrong impression and started calling my name again, holding my face ridiculously close to his and begging me to open my eyes.

I did, seeing as it was useless to just ignore him. My vision was getting worse; I saw two shimmering forms of Eragon and even then, they swayed, joining together and separating over and over, just to confuse me.

Another wave of agony tore through my side and I moaned in pain. His brows were furrowed as he eyed me cautiously. He began to speak, though I heard his voice far off. Once again, he was talking about his undying love for me, the one I had rejected so many times yet he never got tired of pursuing.

35 beats/minute.

I think I have lost a part of my consciousness. A strange heaviness has fallen into my limbs, one that I have never experienced before. Eragon noticed this and began rambling on and on about holding on and not giving up… I wanted to just tell him to be quiet. I had no choice in the matter anyway.

Help had arrived. I couldn't tell who that consisted of; I'm assuming that most of them were healers. Their voices were muffled to my ears yet I could still understand the underlying message. Why were they talking? Haven't I been left half alive-half dead long enough?

Many pairs of eyes were trained on me, different eyes, though I could recognize the same expression in them. And that was when I realized.

I was _dying_.

The truth hit me hard, driving renewed daggers of pain and hurt through me. Thoughts began to run wildly through my mind, thoughts that I have never considered until this very point. I thought of all the things I haven't said, the things I should've said, the things I wouldn't have said if I knew I was going to die so adruptly and the things that I would never say.

20 beats/minute.

It was becoming increasingly hard to breath. It felt as if someone had clamped hold of my throat and was slowly squeezing my windpipe, reducing my breaths to ragged, shallow rasps. My body shook from the effort.

Eragon leant his head down on my breast, listening intently for the pulse he thought was not there. When he realized how weak it already was, he began ordering the healers still straggling around to do something. Anything.

They refused. It was already too late.

Warm tears fell onto my face and at first I thought that it had started raining. But it was only Eragon, weeping as he gazed down fiercely at me. As if that had made me feel any better. Mumbled words of love and heartache reached my ears as he made my heart hurt even more. He was making it too hard on me, on himself. He should've learnt by now that we would never get together.

Maybe he wasn't ready to face that fact, but I was ready to move on. Only now, he was acting like an anchor, holding me back with him while my sails strained to go forward, the wind tugged at me uselessly. His grip on me had tightened, as if he suspected that my end was near and by holding onto my physical body, he would stop the fate, stop me from facing the ineviteable. Was there anything that could give me that glimmer of inspiration to just leave it all?

As if to answer my question, I saw Faolin standing by my feet, looking down at me in that familiar way. A soft smile curved his lips and he reached out to me, beckoning me to join him. I wanted to; I could feel it even through my ravaged state and broke the last chain holding me back.

And as I drifted, I was dimly aware of Eragon mourning over me. Already. I pitied him at that moment, his body bent over mine in sorrow, hands raising my back to him and crushing me against his chest.

Tears continued to stream down his face, though why he felt such utter sadness, I know not. How was it that he could mourn so freely over someone he never had? Tears, such a humiliating thing for a man, such a careless action of love from Eragon.

And that, I would never understand. I will never be able to understand him, nor him, I. For now, I take my heart with me, but in a way, I am protecting him through this action. Though his heart would lurch with renewed love had he known I was doing this, I would rather see him think that than have the secrets of my heart revealed to him.

I have hidden, not removed, for that is never possible, everything that could hurt him, myself included. He does not deserve such nightmares to be unleashed on him. I cannot bear the thought of him turning out to live his life the way I had. He would never understand why.

I have saved him a lifetime of suffering.

I have saved him from making the biggest mistake of his life.

0 beats/minute.

**A/N: OK, not my best wring but...**


End file.
